Joking
by oh-mother-of-darkness
Summary: Dick puts in far too much effort to wish Jason a happy birthday.


"Hilarious," said Dick, as soon as he saw the blood. He jumped from the guardrail down onto Jason's balcony— one of Jason's balconies, anyway, one safe house among the many that Dick knew about. Jason never stayed in one place for long.

That was supposed to make it hard for people to find him: enemies, informants, the CIA, and obviously his family. Jason had told Dick that last part directly, an excessive amount of times. He did not want them visiting.

Dick didn't really care. If he wanted to wish his brother a happy birthday in person, he was going to do it, no matter what Jason thought about that. Dick had told his as much that morning, by text. "Happy birthday. I'll drop by tonight."

"Cool!" Jason responded. "Anybody know a good country I can disappear in after I fake my death to avoid that? Now taking suggestions."

Apparently, he had followed through. Dick scuffed a boot through the nearest "blood" spatter in a ring that would have been alarmingly large in a real crime scene. It smeared easily across the concrete; Jason must be close, then. Dick called his cell to see if it would ring on the rooftops behind him, but it went straight to voicemail instead.

"Hilarious," Dick repeated. "Real mature." He pulled open Jason's windowsill and climbed inside, trying not to feel offended by the effort behind the practical joke— We get it. You don't want to see me.

Honestly, didn't it cross Jason's mind that faking his own death, even as a joke, even with advance warning, was in poor taste? Dick had lived through Jason's real death before. He didn't love being reminded of that experience.

Of course, it was always possible that Jason had considered that, and then decided it was funny. Jason was like that sometimes.

Well, all the time.

The blood trail continued on the carpet inside, from the windowsill to a sparsely furnished living room. Full credit to Jason— it did look very realistic. Without the text that morning, Dick would have been fooled completely. Even now, he almost bought it. He flicked on a light switch as he passed by the panel. Maybe he could find out where Jason had gone and meet him there. That was probably what Jason expected.

"Dick?" asked a voice from across the room (Jason's voice, that was definitely Jason). A red-stained hand extended over the back of the worn-down couch in front of him, weakly waving him forward. "Little help?"

At about that point, it occurred to Dick that Jason might not be playing a practical joke. He hurried to the other side of the couch and found Jason slumped on top of it, hand pressed into his side, bleeding heavily into cushions that probably hadn't been red when he lay down. For a half-second, they stared at each other, frozen.

Dick yanked his phone out of his pocket, dialed the eight digit code that would send an emergency signal to the cave, then dropped it into the carpet while he knelt at Jason's side.

"What did you do?"

"What did _I_ do?" Jason repeated incredulously. "I got _shot_ , asshole. Didn't the blood tip you off?"

"I thought is was a joke."

"This is funny?"

"Well, no, but neither are you." Dick pulled Jason's hand away from his side. "Let me see."

Jason slapped his hand back into place. "I'm hilarious."

"You're bleeding out. Where's your first aid kit?"

"Bedroom. File cabinet. Third drawer."

Dick ran to get it, found a pressure bandage, and ripped it out of the plastic packaging. "Do you have backup coming?"

"No."

"You could have called."

"Phone broke," said Jason, handing it over. The screen had shattered into a few jagged remains of glass over black space. "No comms."

"So what, you lay down to die?"

"You said you were coming. I just… waited." Jason grabbed the back of the couch for support and pulled himself off the cushions so Dick could wrap the bandage underneath him. He didn't say anything else, but he didn't really have to. Dick knew what he must have been thinking while he was alone, hoping Dick showed up in time.

Jason actively pushed his family away. He told them not to visit, that he didn't want to see them, that he wanted to be left alone. What if all of that finally paid off? What if Dick never came?

No matter what he pretended, Jason was relieved to see him. For once, he was genuinely glad that Dick was there.

"Well. Here now." Dick pulled the bandage as tight as he could and tied it off.

"You know what?" Jason muttered. "I changed my mind. Just let me die."

"Can't come to your birthday party if you're dead."

"Exactly."

"What if I told you that Damian baked you a cake?"

Jason looked almost touched. "He did?"

"No, he wrote you this and told me to get out of his room." Dick pulled a crumpled post-it note out of his pocket and passed it to Jason.

"Suggestion: Cuba," Jason read. "Yeah, that tracks."

Dick's phone lit up from the floor, beeping insistently. Bruce dropped through the open window twenty seconds later.

"Jason," Dick told him. "He's over here."

"Let me die," Jason repeated. "Right now, at this moment. Please?"

"Oh shut up."

Dick took one of Jason's shoulders while Bruce took the other; between them, they hauled him down a flight of stairs to the batmobile, while Jason swore loudly in pain. He collapsed into the backseat and closed his eyes.

"I'll meet you at home," Dick told Bruce.

Jason's eyes snapped open. "What?"

"Happy birthday." Dick slammed the door shut, and the batmobile raced away at top speed with Bruce and Jason inside.

Bruce had also shown up, after all. He and Jason should talk about that, Dick figured, while they were alone in the car. At the very least, Jason would have to think about it.

Dick pulled out a grappling line and swung towards the cave on his own. If he hurried, he could make it home right after they did.


End file.
